Читать книгу Keep Your Friends Close: A gripping psychological thriller full of shocking twists you won’t see coming - June Taylor - Страница 11

Mel had heard Will come down for a second time, boil the kettle then go back upstairs. That was nearly an hour ago. Now she was in the kitchen chopping up ingredients for a simple pasta dish.

They had taken Will in on the Room for a Night scheme, another initiative of the charity Karin worked for, but he had been here for nearly eight weeks now ‘as a friend’, which wasn’t really how Mel had understood it would be. She didn’t mind as such, not really. The Ashby Road project was very near its completion, so he would be gone soon enough. It was just that, as Karin was hardly around, the responsibility for Will was falling mostly on her shoulders.

Mel took the same precautions with Will as she had done with Karin in those early stages: stowing her handbag and papers away, changing passwords on her computer and locking it in her desk whenever she went out. Mel was in the habit of such measures in any case, given the nature of her job, handling complaints at the call centre. But taking a total stranger off the street and into the house was a risk. She was also aware of the scare stories surrounding such types, suddenly turning on those who showed them kindness, repaying them with violence. And worse. It had been a gamble taking Karin in, of course, but Karin was different.

Most of the time Will stayed in his room reading, curled up in his sleeping bag on the floor with a mug of tea. All Mel really knew about him was what Karin had told her: that he was born deaf, rejected by his parents, let down badly by the system and ended up living on the streets, which was where he and Karin had become friends. Allies too, apparently. However, Karin’s track record on being able to judge a person’s character was not exactly reliable. Not if Louie was anything to go by.

Will could be any age from twenty-five to forty; his long Russian beard and dark eyes gave away few clues and Mel found his Rasputin stare most unnerving. He seldom smiled. She had begun to feel the tiniest flicker of unease in his presence. Perhaps it was his silence. It definitely wasn’t the same as with Karin. Mel hadn’t wanted to leave her festering on the streets of Leeds, falling prey to anyone who came across her. At the same time, she certainly didn’t want to make a habit of feeding and housing all of Leeds’ waifs and strays. That would be a lifetime’s work. Besides, Mel had her own sob story. Growing up with a sick mother and not much money was far from easy. Her education suffered, as did her youth, both seeming to slip away from her at an alarming rate.

Mel tapped lightly on Will’s door. She knew this wasn’t necessary, but she did it anyway, pushing the door open slowly so as not to startle him. Will was leaning against the radiator, his head bowed into a book. His sleeping bag was in a heap next to a small, tatty rucksack blotted with greasy patches; a few old newspapers were piled on the pillow. His decorating overalls had landed on top of his work boots. They were shabby too, a hand-out, like everything else he owned. His elbow was resting on a tower of books stacked up by his side. Will seemed to be acquiring more and more, perhaps for the first time having somewhere to store them. The ironing board, laundry basket and other household paraphernalia had been pushed into the corner so that Will wouldn’t feel quite so cramped. That was Karin’s doing. The room smelt mouldy, due more to the leaky roof than to Will, to be fair. It was a matter Aaron hadn’t got around to addressing, although he said it was on his list.

Mel waved her arms to get Will’s attention. He looked up and she began a ridiculous mime of shovelling food into her mouth with an imaginary knife and fork. Will closed his book and stood up, following her downstairs.

‘If you want to wash your hands,’ she suggested when they got to the kitchen; once again performing a stupid hand-washing action pointing to the sink. Will never seemed to scrub up clean, and Mel longed to cut off his hair and get rid of that beard. Aaron had donated some of his clothes, which Will had changed into, but even then he just looked like a dirty homeless man in a smart man’s shirt and trousers.

After giving his hands a cursory rinse, Will continued eyeing her as she dished out the pasta.

‘I take it you still don’t want any,’ she said, pointing to her wine glass.

Will shook his head.

She handed him his plate and some cutlery, indicating it was fine for him to eat in the lounge. He hung back, waiting for Mel to lead the way and then sat down cross-legged on the floor, propped against the other sofa.

Mel was glad of the distance he put between them, but still said: ‘You don’t have to sit there, you know.’ He was looking the other way, so probably didn’t even realize she had spoken. She handed him the remote, thinking he might need the subtitles.

The clock on the TV box said 7.40. Still no news from Karin as yet and Mel had been keeping a close eye on her phone. Had he proposed yet? If so, what had she said?

She realized Will was staring.

‘Good?’ she asked, putting her thumb up.

He gave a solemn bow of his head, continuing to eat.

‘Actually, do you mind if I take a photo to send to Karin? She likes to know you’re eating properly.’

Will shrugged, acknowledging the fact that he probably didn’t have any choice.

‘She worries about you, you know,’ she added, getting him to lift his plate in the air and give a thumbs-up. A smile was out of the question, it seemed, even for Karin.

‘Thanks,’ she said, feeling the need to excuse herself. ‘I have to go and do some work now. But feel free to stay and watch TV.’

Mel went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water, taking another with her upstairs. When she got to her room she thought again about Will’s cold watchful stare. How he moved silently about the house. Suddenly it began to bother her that she had left him downstairs on his own. She liked to monitor his movements, just in case. There had been one or two issues of late.